Downpours on the Downside

Here we go!

 A little over a week ago, camp reached the apex that is Parent's weekend and began the hair-raising ride down the final grade to the annual conclusion of "Our Summer Place", and the sudden collision of silence and emptiness that is a summer camp after the kids have departed.

WetCon 1,2,5
I don't see a sandbar,
do you?

The zenith of camp was marked by an unusual spate of rainy days.  It rains a lot here in Western Maine, to the point where over the years I have developed my own system for judging the amount of rainfall.  WetCon One is where I have to look at the tennis area to even see if it is raining... if there are scattered drops or a silky sheen on the courts.  WetCon Two is if puddles start to form in the low points of the rough road that runs in front of our cabin.  Further levels are determined by the river:  if the water reaches the "No Trespassing" signs camp has on the sandbar opposite my cabin; if the water reaches the tree line; and if the warning sign disappears altogether. 

So, we are used to rain here...but from the 7 years of data that I have, I tend to expect the rainy days to be more toward the beginning of camp.  Showers in June, not the end of July.   But old mother earth decided to throw us a curveball, and sent several days of solid rain that interfered with Parent's Day and 95th reunion activities, and also quashed hours of normal camp activities.  Since said activities are what the boys enjoy most, a long string of wet days can lead to the feeling that Maine has somehow let us down.

However, I would posit that rainy days are crucial to us, both in camp and in life.  Rain is nature's way of resetting itself, of calling a mandatory timeout to refresh the earth, and to give it showers that sustain life.  Here at camp, foul weather provides the boys and their minders with a respite that is desperately needed, even as it chafes the young and energetic who are confined to quarters.  (Although many love the late breakfasts that also accompany rain, since the majority of folks are those bizarre creatures that will sleep late if allowed.)

In Robert Ludlum's novel The Bourne Supremacy, the main character says at several key points in the tale that "rest is a weapon."    That phrase has always stuck with me...as a writer, I love the tight, compacted impact that it has-- the juxtaposition of something many would consider passive with one of the most aggressive things we know.  But it is true.  Rest is a much needed arrow in your quiver.  Without it, all the other things you try to do suffer, no matter how many Red Bulls you drink, or how much money you are personally shifting to Starbucks's coffers.

In modern society, we seem to have forgotten how to allot some true downtime for ourselves.  We are like Montag's wife, enraptured with our Parlor Walls and wanting yet another, spinning from screen to screen with our bellies coated in electronic remoras.  Artificial light has shortened the night to the point where whole cities are deemed to "never sleep."  And yet this frenzied state of connectedness and activity facilitates a slow but insidious erosion on the soul and the psyche.

We need downtime.

I am not a disciple of the Eastern religions, but I do believe that some of the concepts of those faith systems are real things, based on very astute observations of this world and the human condition.  The concept of balance is one.  The universe, both the real and hidden realms, are studies in balance.  I won't hit you with a list of clichés... make your own list if you want.  But the universe has balance, and needs balance--it was created that way.

We must work, and we must sleep.

We must play, and we must chill.

We need balance.

One of the reasons I love coming to Maine is that somehow the magic of this place makes me feel more rested, even though I still do my job with an array of computers and screens in my cabin.  In general, I don't watch TV and I don't stream very much.  I read.  I do art.  I enjoy the beauty of Maine when my job and duties allow.  All of this is a much needed restorative to my spirit.

But why don't I make sure that happens back in Texas?  That's on me.

Wherever you are, whatever your lot... in this frenzied modern world... find some downtime for yourself.  Accept the rainy days in your life and reset.  Let the balance come back in your life.

Let it rain.

Categories: Maine, summer